Moments in Time
by TenshiNoAkuma
Summary: A series of drabbles based on the characters from my RO stories. For those who enjoy the short. [includes male love]
1. Nightmares

Author's Notes: Inspired by YunCyn's Familial Moments, this is just a series of little scenes that make their way into my mind. These little snippets may or may not be relevant to the involved characters' storylines. They may or may not make sense. Feel free to ask for clarification on anything you don't understand. That said, enjoy!

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Title: Nightmares

Words: 330

Summary: Sometimes all you need is someone close to hold you.

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Trian woke in a cold sweat, the vividness of his nightmare tearing him away from his sleep. Trembling, he was afraid to shut his eyes, lest he fall asleep and continue his nightmare. His ragged breathing and shaking stirred the other occupant of his bed.

"What happened…?" Tyler mumbled, rolling over, his voice thick with sleep.

"N-nothing…" Trian inwardly cursed the stammer that crept into his reply. "Nothing happened," he replied more firmly. "Go back to sleep…"

Trian turned away, hoping his friend wouldn't sense how scared he was. Curling into a ball, he squeezed his eyes shut, mentally praying that the nightmares wouldn't return. Already they had their chilly grip on him, haunting him in his conscious moments. It seemed suddenly so cold, as if the freezing breath of Hatii had wrapped him in its icy embrace. Wrapping his arms around himself, he dug his numb fingers into his flesh, trying to rid himself of the cold…and the cold, dark abyss that threatened to swallow him. It would take him away to a place where he was all alone against the darkness…

_It was only a dream,_ he told himself. _It was only a dream. It was only a dream…_

His eyes snapped open when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist. He hadn't realised he had been mumbling aloud. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"Shh…shh…It's alright," Tyler whispered. His voice was soft and mellow, reassuring Trian as he gently held him. His friend continued to murmur comforting words, but Trian didn't hear them, instead simply focusing on the sound of his voice. Trian could feel Tyler's warm breath against his neck as he talked. Somehow, although they weren't quite hugging, Trian felt a little calmer and a little warmer. "It was only a nightmare, nothing more."

Trian permitted himself a strained smile before he closed his eyes again, lulled to sleep by Tyler's comforting voice.

He had no more nightmares that night.


	2. Bed Partners

Author's Notes: Perhaps this chapter should've been posted before Nightmares. Somehow, it feels strange to address people as Mr and Mrs in stories, yet, there must be parents. What else could they call them? Some of this is based on my own experiences. Enjoy!

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Title: Bed Partners

Words: 1 123

Summary: They had always been together since the beginning.

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Tyler couldn't quite recall how long they had shared a bed for. He vaguely remembered that when they were children, Trian used to sleep on the couch and he used to sleep on the bed in Trian's room. Those were the days when the Lizray family had first taken him in. At that time, Trian's parents used to stay at home to look after the two boys. Mrs Lizray did most of the cooking, although Tyler preferred Mr Lizray's cooking on the rare occasions when the monk decided he wanted to make something. Mrs Lizray would always reprimand her husband afterwards though, saying that he used too much sugar or cream in his desserts. Trian's parents had also always said that they'd build another room so that Trian didn't have to sleep on the couch all the time, but they never got around to doing it. Trian himself didn't seem to mind though.

Every morning, Mr Lizray would wake Trian up to go to the Yuno Magic Academy. It used to take a good fifteen minutes to shake him awake, until his mother got so fed up she dumped a bucket of water on her son. From then on, Trian would wake up the moment he was called for fear that he would be startled awake by cold water. However, he would be bleary-eyed for at least the next twenty minutes. The first thing Trian would do (when he was fully conscious) was to bring Tyler to the breakfast table. In those times, Tyler had been unfamiliar with the house and needed help to find his way. His friend would guide him, although once Trian nearly steered him into a wall because he was half-asleep.

Then, one day, his friend pushed the couch into his room. When asked why, the boy replied, "So I don't have to walk as far to wake Tyler up."

His parents had sighed and shaken their heads, and went to buy a bed. They didn't want their couch disappearing. The bed was moved into the room, and the couch was pushed back to where it belonged.

When they had gotten old enough to live by themselves and had finished studying in their respective schools, Mr and Mrs Lizray returned to their duties to the Pronteran Church. Mrs Lizray often journeyed solo in some of the most dangerous parts of Rune-Midgard. The Church always had faith that God would deliver her safely back, as she was one of their most experienced battle priestesses. She often complained about her missions on her return, but she always did it with a smile. Mr Lizray, on the other hand, never talked about his missions, instead telling them stories of the places he visited. Sometimes he would tell some of the folktales from the more 'mysterious' lands.

One problem with not having Trian's parents in the house all the time was that Trian would never wake up in the mornings. Tyler would wake up and yell at his friend to get up. But Trian never would. Tyler never decided to cast a Cold Bolt on his friend (although on occasions he was strongly tempted to), which, in retrospect, was probably the reason why Trian never developed an instinct to wake to avoid the repercussions.

The solution Trian found to that problem (after Tyler had berated him severely for sleeping past noon) was to push their beds together and sleep like that. Trian's logic was that if Tyler needed to wake him, he could easily poke him in the back or something. Of course, it never really worked. Sometimes he would wake up, but most of the time, Trian simply rolled over and went back to sleep. Because their 'bed' was actually made of two single beds pushed together, there was a problem where they would fall in the small gap in between. Tyler, personally, had never fallen in there, but Trian seemed to do it a lot. In annoyance, his friend stole his parents' double bed (they weren't exactly using it) and they had slept in it together ever since.

Everyone in Yuno had been long accustomed to both of them living together. There wasn't anyone in the floating city who did not know them. They were the first high wizard and the first scholar in a hundred years or so. It was not surprising that almost everyone knew their histories, and that the Lizrays had practically adopted Tyler. Because of that, none of the Yunoans found that Trian and Tyler living together in the same house unusual. However, when the fact they slept in the same bed got out, there were many raised eyebrows. Wild rumours flew around the usually calm and reserved city. It even got to the point that Yuno's Sage Council had to call the pair for questioning to dispel some of the more shocking and explicit rumours. That had been an extremely embarrassing day for all parties involved. Still, they continued to sleep together, too lazy to change their habits now that they had a semi-working routine.

As time went on, Trian had become worse and worse in the mornings. His friend became completely incomprehensible until he had drunk something. Most of the time it was coffee, but occasionally it was tea or just plain water. The alcohol was always reserved for night. More than half the time he went straight back to sleep the moment he woke. If there was anything important they had to do in the mornings, Tyler found that the most effective way to wake him up would be to kick him off the bed, though Trian still only actually got up an hour later. Then his friend would complain about the bruises, even though he would have healed them away long ago. Tyler wouldn't have their simple life any other way, though.

Tyler lay on his back, listening to Trian's soft breathing in the small hours of the morning. It was a comfort to know that there was someone there beside him. It was a comfort to know that there was a friendly voice in his darkness. It was a comfort to know that there was someone he could rely on to guide him through his darkness. Despite all his complaints, Tyler was glad Trian had gone to all that trouble just to be there for him. In return, Tyler did his best to be there for his friend when he needed him.

Smiling to himself, he let his fingers play with the soft strands of Trian's hair that lay within his reach. His friend's too-long hair often got in the way, but they were a reassuring reminder that Trian was always there. And for Tyler, just knowing he was there was enough.


	3. Freedom rated M

Author's Notes: Now, off on a tangent, _away_ from those two attention-seeking mages. (whistles) In reply to the anonymous reviewers, those two _are_ gay, but their love is platonic, not physical. This one doesn't involve them, and is rated M for strong sexual content. Flip to the next story if you do not wish to read a horribly done sex scene. Uh…enjoy? D:

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Title: Freedom

Rating: M, for strong sexual content.

Words: 656

Summary: Even the stupidest dog can bite back.

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His glasses lay on the bedside table, abandoned as their owner made a trail down her body with his lips. Keilith's fingers danced over her skin, their touch light and tantalising. Moaning and arching her hips, she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing him tighter against her body. His hands sliding down to caress her legs, she parted them at his gentle, but insistent touch. As he let his fingers skim across her inner thighs and his tongue taste the sweet area between her legs, Keilith found his mind straying from the woman of his attentions.

Why was he doing this?

Closing his eyes so he didn't have to see the blur that he knew was her legs, he tried not to focus on what he was doing. As her curled his fingers inside her, his mind was elsewhere. Initially, Keilith had taken her because he wanted to seal his place beside her. That was so he no longer had to fear attack from her followers since he was under her protection. Back then, their times together had been enjoyable. They would continue their dance long into the night and through the early hours of the morning. It had been amusing, finding different ways to pleasure her.

But now he ceased to be amused. He was no longer aroused by her soft, creamy body. Feeling himself move within her no longer gave him a sense of power over her, despite her moans of pleasure. He only to her room at nights out of routine, knowing at was expected of him. When had their positions of power reversed? He used to be the one in control, manipulating his way into her good books to protect his research. But somehow, she had managed to recover and turn his own machinations against him. Where had he slipped up? When had he become nothing more than a slave to her? This wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't what he wanted at all…

"Why did you stop?" she whispered, taking hold of his hands. He could imagine that slow smile of hers spreading across her face, even if he couldn't see it. She knew she had won, long before he knew he had lost.

He felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt her tongue against his fingers, licking off the fluids there. He tried to give her a winning smile, but he strongly suspected he fell short. To make up for it, he kissed her along the side of her neck, teasing at the skin with his teeth. He was rewarded with a soft sigh of pleasure that he no longer cared about.

The question wasn't why did he stop. Rather, it was, why _didn't _he stop? A personal whore for a woman he despised, was that all he had become? It was so…humiliating. What happened to his pride that made him continue his 'illegal' research despite the shunning of the general public?

As Keilith curled his arms around her waist, drawing her closer to him, he found his answer. He had become desperate to find any way of living and continuing his research. He had become so desperate, he had come to her, and now he was regretting it. He sealed the gap between their lips with a kiss, his mouth slick with more than just saliva. This wasn't living. He thrust upwards into her as she moved her hips down, allowing him to penetrate further into her. Keilith ignored her moans. He was growing tired of this…this slavish lifestyle. He had heard the recent whispers about him, all of them demeaning. Reject alchemist, suck up, bootlicker, those were all names they used to refer to him. They had even gone as far as calling him her personal bitch.

Well, he'd show those goddamned bastards. Even the stupidest dog knew how to bite back. And when he fought back, he had every intention to draw blood…


	4. Sunset Songs

Author's Notes: Something I came up with during an Economics class. Should have been studying for exams, but oh well. Enjoy!

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Title: Sunset Songs

Words: 369

Summary: A bard strums his guitar.

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Carlos cast a wistful smile over the ocean, his guitar cradled in his hands. The setting sun turned the cerulean seas into a kaleidoscope of vibrant colours. Flaming reds and fiery oranges washed over him, drowning out all other colours. He always came to this particular pier, to sit on its edge, just to watch the sun set. Sometimes he would even sleep out here, just so that he could watch the sun bring light to the world at dawn.

Comodo was a beautiful town, possibly the most beautiful city in all of Rune-Midgard in his opinion. Its beaches of pink-white sand, its gigantic palm trees, its enormous, glittering seashell that was its centrepiece, there was no other place that could boast such natural beauty. But however much he loved his beautiful hometown, Carlos loved the sunset more. There was nothing in the world that could quite capture the same powerful beauty of the sun. A troupe of bards and dancers had once tried to capture the pure essence of a sunset and put it to dance and music. The performance had been a huge success, the dancers' colourful costumes becoming a whirling blur of reds and oranges. However, Carlos had felt that they had fallen short of what a sunset truly was. The thing about sunsets was that there would be another one, just like it, the very next day.

The song and dance hadn't completely unaffected him, though. The 'Dance of the Assassin Cross at Sunset' had inspired him more than any other. Smiling to himself, he plucked at his guitar's strings, listening to his instrument's mellow voice. The 'Assassin Cross' Sunset' was a fast paced song, conveying the speed of the assassin and the strength of the sun. He had changed the song, ever so slightly, though, to create a version that felt more natural to him. His version was calmer, conveying the beauty of both. It reminded him of someone, a beautiful assassin, and he felt that this version did her justice. Carlos was proud of the song, its lilting notes often carrying deep into the night.

Today was no different. Just like the sunset, there was a song as sweet as the last, everyday.


	5. Dusk Dances

Author's Notes: A kind of continuation from the previous story. Enjoy!

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Title: Dusk Dances

Words: 328

Summary: She dances long into the sunset.

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Elsewhere, a dancer heard the quiet strumming of the bard. Closing her eyes, Ilessa swayed to the music, a small smile curling at her lips. She danced for the bard, the one who had brought her to where she was. She often danced together with him, yet, she was never with him. He never knew that she always waited for him to come to pier, just so she could dance to his sweet music.

Although she danced for him, she also danced for herself, for the assassin in her. She used to resent herself, for all the things she had done. He had found her in her most miserably pathetic moments and given her a helping hand. When he offered her a new life, she had been more than willing to forget everything and be reborn. But, he had advised her against that. He had taught her not to forget the past, but to acknowledge it and move on.

"Keep the good things," he had said, "and learn from the bad. It's better to learn from past mistakes, than never to acknowledge they existed."

Taking his advice to heart, she had made sure her assassin skills had not diminished over time. Every morning, she would train, but she never used her skills for killing anymore. More often than not, the agility and her acrobatic ability she had learnt as an assassin had aided her in her life as a dancer. She enjoyed performing for an audience far more than she had detested killing and stealing. It was a pleasant change, being in the centre of attention, rather than being in the shadows. Thanks to him, her life was no longer in the darkness, but in the light. He had brought an end to her previous life, like how the sunset brought an end to the day.

For that, she was grateful. Although the night was still there, there was comfort in knowing that the day would immediately follow.


	6. Love Calculator

Author's Note: Just a little something inspired by boredom during Economics class.

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Title: Love Calculator

Words: 545

Summary: It simply was not meant to be…

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"Oh, too bad, Faith. Looks like you won't succeed with either of the two."

Faith peered over her coffee cup at her good friend, Ami, who was pointing at the figures on the end of a piece of paper. Ami was always abroad somewhere. One day she would be in Izlude, the next, Geffen. So when her sage friend was in town, Faith always treated Ami to coffee at the Café Soliel.

Faith squinted at the piece of paper before her. Ami had been doing a few calculations at her request of her chances of success of love between two men. It was silly, of course, but who knew? There could be a grain of truth in the so-called 'Love Calculator'. "That can't be right!" she exclaimed. "Zero? Are you sure you calculated it right?"

The sage brandished her quill in front of Faith's nose. "Are you saying I can't do basic addition?" Ami huffed indignantly. "If you include your last name and his last name, it'd still only be 1 percent! There's only one L between the both of you!"

Faith let her head drop onto the table with a thunk. Ami simply sipped daintily out of her coffee cup. Faith sighed, raising her head back up off the table. "Okay, okay, can you explain to me again how this works?"

"Well," Ami began patiently. She loved nothing more than to teach others. "This is how I usually calculate this. The first method, you write down the full names of the pair who you want to calculate. Then you count up the number of L's there are in both names and write the number down. Then you count the number of O's and write the number beside the previous number, doing the same for V and E. Then you add up the digits between each other–"

"Ah, waitwaitwait!" Faith interrupted. "This is where you lost me last time."

"Hm…okay…" Ami scribbled something on the page. "Okay, say you have the numbers 3, 2, 0, 5. What you do is add the 3 to the 2, the 2 to 0, and the 0 to 5. That gives you 5, 2, 5, right?"

Nodding, Faith indicated for the sage to continue. "Well, then you do the same thing with 5, 2, 5, until you end up with a 2 digit number, which in this case, would be 77. That number's the success rate."

Realisation dawned on Faith. "Ohhh, I get it now! Let me try one!"

Grabbing the quill and paper off Ami, she began to scribble on it. Ami raised her eyebrow when she saw the names Faith wrote on the page. Faith noticed her look, and declared, "This will prove once and for all whether those two are gay for each other or not!"

Ami returned to enjoying her coffee, used to her exuberant friend's antics. "Whatever you say, Faith."

Scribbling excitedly, Faith talked as she wrote. "So…it's Trian Lizray and Tyler Li…That's 3 L's. Hm, that's a good start I suppose. Um…No O's, no V's…and 1 E…31 percent? That can _not_ be right! Those two are _totally_ sleeping with each other! It should be, like, 99 percent!"

Ami leant over and patted the upset priestess consolingly. "It simply wasn't meant to be."


	7. Places of the Holy

Author's Note: This was originally supposed to have 3 parts, but I decided to keep the 3rd part separate. Needs a better title though.

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Title: Places of the Holy

Words: 374

Summary: You can't always be together.

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Rosa sniffed in distaste as she entered Payon Cave. This was not her first time in the city's ancient dumping ground for the dead, but her dislike for the upper levels was still as strong as it had been in her acolyte days. Filled with the ever rotting bodies of animated zombies and piles of bat guano, her nose simply shut off. She preferred Glastheim over this rotting dump. Still…she had a job to do.

The ball of her morningstar smashed into a soldier skeleton's skull as it tried to creep up on her. She was to bring the priest Thiago Morrison, or his body, back from Payon Caves. He had been sent to investigate the lower caves, but did not return. Rosa found it odd that a priest as capable as he would go missing. It was all the more reason for her to be more cautious. After all, she couldn't afford to die; there was someone she had to go back to…

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Aleran lay under a tree, watching the birds fly overhead though the tree's pink cherry blossoms. Amatsu was a beautiful city. Its intricate, wooden architecture was a breathtaking sight, and its natural beauty would be the envy of Rune-Midgard, if more saw the city. But he knew that beneath all its splendour, Amatsu had its own problems. Within the palace's walls was a burial site for many of its dead samurai. However, the dead soldiers had risen at the command of the boy prince possessed by the spirit of one of the more vengeful samurai. Aleran, with the help of Amatsu's forces and others sent by the Pronteran Church, managed to seal the dead and the spirit within the part of the palace known as the Tatami Maze before the outside city found out what happened.

He couldn't help but think the city reminded him of himself. Calm and tranquil on the outside, turmoil brewing on the inside. But while he was lying under the cherry blossoms, making the most of what little time he had in the foreign city, he could forget all his troubles. As beautiful as Amatsu was, he found his thoughts wandering to someone even more beautiful, and wishing that she was there with him…


	8. Fake Wings

Author's Note: The last part of 'Places of the Holy'. I tend to associate Xil with butterflies. Dunno why though. Still needs a better title.

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Title: Fake Wings

Words: 136

Summary: What doesn't belong to you isn't yours to keep.

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Xildali sat on Geffen's western bridge, one foot dangling off it. He held his dragon-headed staff closer to him as he stared at the water flowing sullenly under the bridge. A little butterfly flitted past the wizard, its white wings almost glowing under the warm sun. He watched the little insect fly off into the distance until he couldn't see the tiny creature any more. With a sad smile, he cupped his hands together. Opening his hands, a tiny replica of the butterfly fluttered out. A faintly shimmering trail of sparkles followed its flight path, before the magic he placed in it fizzled out.

He could capture a butterfly and let it go, but if it didn't come back to him, it wasn't his to begin with. He let her go, but she didn't come back…


	9. If I die

Author's Notes: Like mother, like son. Sort of. Kinda sleepy at the moment…

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Title: If I die

Words: 484

Summary: A stalker's last stand.

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"Just run, okay? You know I can catch up with you later!"

NightEyes faced the little boy-prince, his dagger, Grimtooth in his hand. The prince would have looked completely harmless, if it wasn't for the giant spirit of a dead samurai hovering over him. Covered in armour and wielding two swords, NightEyes knew all too well that the spirit could hurt him. The huge gash in his side told of his (incorrect) assumption that the spirit was intangible. The wound bled badly, dark and sickly, but he hadn't been given the time to tend to it. Luckily, Adrianna wasn't hurt, yet. But if she stayed, she would be…

"Go!" he yelled, keeping his eyes on the boy-prince. The spirit moved almost as fast as he did, and that was quite a feat. It almost scared him. Almost. Poing couldn't help him here either. The poring's knowledge didn't extend past the mainland of Rune-Midgard, and the spirit seemed to sense their every move, their every attempted sneak attack. "Both of you, run! I'll keep him busy! I'll meet up with you again at the palace, alright?"

He knew they hesitated. He knew they wanted to stay. But he breathed easier when he heard them run away. Now it was only him and the boy-prince.

The spectre's voice was hollow and breathless, enough to send shivers down even the bravest of knights. But NightEyes was impervious to its terror inspiring voice. He was a stalker; _he_ was a terror of the night. And the spirit was nothing compared to the likes of the Dark Lord and the telepathic voice of Grimtooth. No, this guy was just an evil villain wannabe. "I may have been sealed in this place, but there's no reason for me to destroy those foolish enough to walk on my grounds!" The samurai snorted. "You can keep yourself occupied with me, but my living dead can still finish them off. Your woman will join you in your death!"

NightEyes grinned, raising his dagger. The curved blade of the cursed weapon gleamed maliciously in the flickering fires in the Tatami Maze. "I doubt it. She's smart, and so is Poing. Unlike me." After all, it was his stupid idea they should come here. If they didn't ignore the warnings, this would never have happened. Besides, he couldn't run anyway. If he didn't die from this boy possessed by a stupid tin can, then he would certainly die from blood loss. He would slow them down (haha, usually it was the other way around). The best he could do is make sure the spectre didn't hunt those two down.

"Maybe I'd be able to take you down, right here, right now," NightEyes' smile widened in anticipation. "After all, you're coward enough to hide in the body of a little boy. You can't be all that tough."

_If I die, go on to live another day…_


	10. Trapped in White

Author's Note: This was originally written a long time ago, when I first walked into the Lighthalzen Biolab. Let's just say I was run over by a certain Biolab MvP…e5e5e5…Arg, I'll get around to reviewing when exams are over grarrrrrr.

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Title: Trapped in White

Words: 1 802

Summary: A step into the unknown…

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"Phew…I'm glad that's over."

Egnigem Cenia wiped her blade on a corpse before she turned to face the red-haired mage. The name engraved on his bracelet was Laurell Weinder, but all the versions of him were named that. She, too, had a silvery bracelet, identical to his in every way other than the name. Giving a smile to the expectant faces around her, she mentally ticked off their names. Armeyer Dinze, who was often the first into the fray with her trusty battle axe. Errende Ebecee, always there to back the group up with his healing abilities. Wikebine Tres, who would sneakily attack from behind with her dagger while Kavach Icarus sniped anything that got in their way. And who could forget Laurell, the ever pessimistic mage?

"For once, I agree with the fire hazard." Wikebene kicked the corpse of a blacksmith who had not detected her before she sunk her dagger into his back. "This party killed a lot of our brothers and sisters."

"Shall we walk?" Egnigem suggested. The sight of dead bodies, regardless of whether they were Outsiders or not, always brought back bad memories.

They all agreed, but not before Errende performed a prayer for the souls they had just sent to oblivion. Egnigem honestly did not see the point, although she did not roll her eyes like Wikebene did, instead patiently watching the acolyte perform his prayer. Armeyer and Kavach never paid much attention, but Laurell, despite being the mopey boy he was, always knelt beside Errende and joined in. She always felt that the Outsiders didn't deserve their sympathy. After all, they were the ones who started all this.

Finally, Errende rose, and nodded. The group, as one, moved away from the scene. They passed by the Removers, the undead cleaners and fire fighters of the Somatology Laboratory. No doubt they would be hurrying to dispose of the bodies before they stank up the laboratory. As they passed, Egnigem watched the other versions of herself wandering through the corridors. They were identical to her in looks, from her long, dark blue hair to her petite frame. But whenever she looked at her 'sisters', there was a kind of dull-eyed dumbness to them, and she knew without a doubt that she was not like them. The same could be said for her friends who followed her. Their 'brothers and sisters' did not talk. Nor did they have any inclination to do anything but recklessly charge at any intruders. It saddened her when she saw yet another body, slowly fading away from existence. In the beginning, there had been many of them. But lately, she noticed there weren't so many wandering the corridors. Their numbers were slowly dwindling…

She felt someone tug at her sleeve to get her attention. It was Errende. "Could we not continue in this direction, please?" he whispered, eyes darting about furtively.

Egnigem paused, looking around. She didn't realise they had been walking in the direction of one of the 'prison' blocks. The prison blocks were where all their memories first began. She didn't know where they had come from. No one in the Laboratory did. They had all just been…_there_. Then, one day, people entered the Laboratory. It was a day that…she couldn't clearly remember. Her mind had blocked most of those memories, until all she could recall were screams of death and her brethren lying motionless on the ground. Seeing her 'siblings' die was like seeing herself dying before her eyes. But finally, they managed to drive out those bloodthirsty Outsiders with the help of other shadowy beings. Egnigem couldn't quite remember how they looked, though, only that they were taller than she was…

Ever since that day of slaughter, those they did not recognise were deemed as threats, and were disposed of accordingly. Egnigem didn't know what it was that made the Outsiders loathe them so much. Other than their ghostly appearance, she felt that her little group were the same as the Outsiders.

Nodding, she changed direction. Despair permeated the prison blocks like the bloodstains soaked its bricked walls. None of them liked that place. Besides, it smelt bad.

"Have you ever wondered why we're all named the same?" Kavach suddenly asked quietly.

Armeyer raised an eyebrow. "We're not named the same. You're Kavach, I'm Armeyer. How is that the same?"

"He means we have the same names as our siblings, nitwit." Wikebene ducked under the swing of an axe.

"We are all unique in God's eyes." Errende, of course.

"Cenia?" Kavach looked at her, his brown eyes holding her in his steadfast gaze.

"I've given it some thought," Egnigem said, feeling uncomfortable. She did not enjoy dwelling on things she didn't understand. "But those thoughts didn't lead to any conclusions."

"What's the point? We'll all be dead before we find the answer :("

"The point is, stop being all doom and gloom, or else _this_ will happen to you!"

Wikebene tackled Laurell. He flailed wildly at her, which quickly lead to Armeyer joining in the fray while Errende worried about them on the sidelines. Kavach watched them, his face betraying neither amusement nor exasperation at their antics. A frown creased Egnigem's brow. Kavach never said anything without reason. Lately, he had been asking lots of questions that she had no answers to, questions that she didn't want to think about. She lost her train of thought when Armeyer and Wikebene turned their attention away from Laurell and began fighting with each other. If she didn't do something, they wouldn't stop fighting until the other gave up. And neither of them would ever give up if left to their own devices…

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They were all perched on the black and yellow 'Danger' signs, staring at the swirling Centre of the Laboratory. Egnigem happily swung her legs, not thinking of anything at all. For once, Armeyer and Wikebene were not fighting with each other, nor were they picking on Laurell. Egnigem fully intended to enjoy the temporary peace.

"Have you ever wondered what's down there?" Kavach's flat voice broke the silence.

Egnigem paused in mid-swing, her curiosity perked by his question. "No, I haven't."

"Wouldn't you like to find out?"

He had the attention of all of them. Kavach slid off the sign he was sitting on and continued, walking around the edge near the swirling Centre. "We've been here for so long, but we've never been into the Centre or Upstairs."

Errende said softly, "Our brothers and sisters _always_ avoid the Centre. And they never go Upstairs."

"But why do we avoid them too?" Kavach's voice grew louder and stronger as he spoke. "Why should _we_ avoid them?"

"Maybe they know it's dangerous…" Egnigem trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

"There would be no danger to _us_. We're _smarter_ than them. There has to be more to our existence than simply wandering here. Surely we can't be the only ones here that aren't stupid."

Errende looked scandalised. "Kavach! How can you say that about our brothers and sisters?"

Egnigem stared at the brunette archer in wonder. She had never heard him sound so…alive. He had never lifted his voice from a deadpan in all the time she had known him. It was virtually impossible to raise any reaction from him other than an arch of an eyebrow. Right now, there was a kind of…hunger, in his eyes. She then realised how much this meant to Kavach…

"I'm only saying what you're all thinking. Look at our brethren! They're not exactly the brightest light globe in the Lab! Have any of them ever said 'hello' to you as you pass them in the corridors?" He paused to take a deep, shuddering breath. "The Removers, as useful as they are, are merely mindless skeletons. We are the only ones here who can think, who have emotions, who can communicate clearly! Yet, _all_ the Outsiders can do these things! Why are there so few like us here? Why are we the only ones? Why…"

He was on the verge of tears. Unsure of what to do, Egnigem slid off her seat and gently wrapped her arms around him. "We'll figure it out one day…" The boy accepted her embrace until he had calmed down. He gingerly pushed her away as he wiped away his tears, mumbling something about dust in his eye. Egnigem ignored Armeryer and Wikebene pretending to be sick. Silence reigned while they all gazed thoughtfully at the swirling Centre.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Wikebene lightly hopped down to the stairs. She stood dangerously close the swirl of the Centre. "We're not going to find out anything if we just sit here and talk the day away."

"What are you doing!" Armeyer yelled, taking hold of the thief's arms and yanking her away from the Centre. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"We're all going to die Dx"

Wikebene rolled her eyes. "You _such_ an optimist," she said sarcastically to Laurell. "Like Kav said, we're smart! Nothing's gonna happen to us!"

"Don't be stupid–"

Egnigem blocked out the sounds of the thief and merchant fighting with each other again. Now that Kavach had made such a big deal over the swirling Centre, she couldn't help but be captivated by it. All her attention was focused on it. She had never thought about going into the Centre until now. She was afraid that what lay beyond the Centre was dangerous, but she had to admit that the idea of going to someplace new intrigued her. She also remembered how the other shadowy beings seemed to appear out of nowhere on the day the first Outsiders arrived. Maybe they came from the Centre…

"I'll go ahead," she offered.

Her words stopped Armeyer and Wikebene's fight, drawing the attention of the entire group. "What!"

"I'll go ahead," she repeated. She saw the worried look on Errende's face. "I know it's dangerous, which is why I think I should go alone. That way, if anything happens to me–"

"No way," Armeyer interrupted flatly.

"Yeah, I agree!" Wikebene helped Armeyer to her feet. "There's no way you're going in there alone."

"I want to see for myself what's in the Centre," Kavach added.

"I'd rather be where help is needed," Errende piped up, "than being safe where it isn't."

"Besides, if we're going to die, it'd be better to die together D:"

Wikebene glared at Laurell. "Great way to kill the mood, dork."

Egnigem smiled happily. She was glad she had such good friends. As one, they all linked hands to walk into the Centre together. However…

"Ew! Egnigeeeeeeeem! Wikebene spat in her hand!"

Egnigem sighed. She should have known something like this would happen. "Just wipe it off Laurell," she said patiently. "It's not going to eat you."

--

Author's Note: Oh, I just remembered. The music I listen to in the Biolab is from www(dot)ctgmusic(dot)com(slash)song(dot)php?id(equals)8563

Argggg why is linking not allowed ;w; It's a beautiful ambience track, and quite fitting, I feel, for the mood of the Biolab. It's a full 21 mins long. There are some true gems in that website…if you can find them. I want to do something sappy...


	11. Anything and Everything

Author's Notes: The two magey dorks will get their screen time soon xD

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Title: Anything and Everything

Words: 756

Summary: The jack-of-all-trades is the master of none

--

Grace sighed. The hustle and bustle of Prontera moved past her while she sat on the edge of the fountain. Numerous people passed by her. Swordies, mages, archers, almost every job imaginable. She wished she could be like them, and know where her strength lay. She had tried everything, from being an acolyte to a merchant, even having a go at being a thief. She found she could do everything. She could swing a sword, she could summon a wall of fire, she was good at haggling. But, she couldn't focus on any one of those things. She enjoyed both types of magic, but she didn't want to be a mage or an acolyte. She didn't just want to only cast elemental bolts, but she wanted to be able to support too! She enjoyed being in the front lines, but she didn't want to be in the melee all the time like a swordie. Argh, if she kept on being indecisive like this, she would _never_ get a job. But then again, she didn't want to be stuck in a job she didn't like either! Why was finding a job she liked so hard???

Grace stood up on the edge of the fountain. "Arrrggghhh! This sucks!" she screamed to the sky. The sight of a petite novice girl suddenly shouting for no apparent reason drew many stares from passer-bys.

"Hey, hey, little girl, you'd better come down from there before you slip and fall. You could get hurt, you know."

She looked down at a priest who looked up her with some concern. He held his hand out to help her down. Grace accepted it, and hopped down. She noted with some annoyance that even though the priest didn't look much older than her, he was sooooo much taller. Some people had all the luck.

The priest sat down on the fountain edge, smoothing out his robes as he did so. "Care to tell me the reason for your frustration?" he asked kindly, indicating she should sit down by patting the place beside him. Haha, the church boy was so cute.

Grace flumped onto the fountain's stone edge. "I don't know what job I should become." She pouted, swinging her legs. "I've tried everything there is, but I like them all! Do I want to be a mage? Or a swordie? Or maybe an aco? But when I was training to be a mage, I wanted to poke things with my knife. But when I was training to be a swordie, I wanted to be able to cast spells and fry those icky fabres!" She waved her hands in the air to give action to her frustration. "Then the swordie association chucked me out when I froze that annoying little yoyo with my _awesome_ frost diver! I stopped it from running off with that ring, didn't I? Dumb swordies…Aaaarrrgh, why aren't swordies allowed to cast spells?"

The priest arched an eyebrow at the novice's antics. Folding his hands on his lap, he said, "If you enjoy everything, you could always be a jack-of-all-trades (although jill-of-all-trades might be more appropriate for you haha). You seem to be incapable of focusing on just one thing, so maybe learning a little bit of everything there is should be the way to go. If you decide to travel, all the doors are open for you. If anyone needs a healer, you can heal. If anyone needs help fighting off something, you can do it. If anyone needs a warm fire, you can create one with a spell. You would be welcome anywhere." He gave her an encouraging smile. "You can do anything, I'm sure you do alright if you put your mind to it."

"Aaaah, too many words!" Grace held her head in her hands. "What're you talking about?"

He laughed. "I'm saying create a new kind of job. A job that you can use _all_ the skills you learn from the other jobs. It gives you the freedom to do what you want, right?"

There was a pause while the novice thought over his idea. Then suddenly she burst out laughing and turned around to give him a tight hug. Giving the priest a light peck on the cheek, Grace cried happily, "Thanks soooo much Mr. Random Cute Priest-guy! I would have _never_ have thought of that! That's such an awesome idea! Thankyou so so much! I'll remember you forever!"

Before the priest knew it, the little novice-girl cheerfully skipped away, leaving him to stare in bewilderment after her.

--

Author's Notes: And so the super-novice class was born xD


	12. Scrambled Eggs

Author's Notes: This idea came to me when I was thinking about characters with obscenely long hair (like Sephiroth…) and how troublesome it must be. I mean, all that hair has got to be pretty heavy too. I have long-ish hair, and when I get a hair cut, my head feels _so_ much lighter. Then you have all the problems of it getting in the way, and washing it, and brushing it (my hair eats combs Dx )…

This is set before the previous T&T shorts and Deadly Enchantment, and is fuelled by waiting for my soul linker's SP to regen.

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Title: Scrambled Eggs

Words: 718

Summary: It's the reason why they always eat out.

--

It was the first time the Lizrays had left them home alone. By Lizrays, that meant Trian's parents, not Trian as well. Tyler wondered how they would fare without having someone to do all the boring, menial, everyday chores for them. But for now, he was faced with the problem of getting Trian to wake up. Tyler could still hear Trian's slow, relaxed breathing of sleep. That was the problem when Mrs Lizray wasn't around. Trian was incredibly undisciplined when it came to waking up and without his mother threatening to dump cold water on him, it didn't seem like Trian would wake up at all. Tyler wondered how anyone on Rune-Midgard could sleep for so long.

Finally getting sick of listening to his empty stomach's grumbling complaints, Tyler groped around for his walking stick. Walking over to where he knew Trian's bed was, he gave it a good, solid kick. His friend gave a muffled grunt before Tyler heard him move around. Then silence. Sounded like Trian went back to sleep, lazy bastard. Tyler kicked the bed again. There were sounds of more moving and an annoyed hiss. "Whaaaatt?"

"I'm hungry. Make me lunch. It's too late for breakfast."

"Go away. It's too early to do anything. Lemme go back to sleep…"

Tyler heard a yawn before Trian's breathing relaxed again. Tyler didn't really want to make Trian get up, but he was really, _really_ hungry. His stomach was hungry. It demanded food. Frowning, he prodded the lump on the bed.

"If you don't get up, I'll find your staff and throw it off the side of Yuno."

Tyler heard a muffled thump and a moaned, "Nooooo…" before a strange shuffling, scraping noise, like someone trying to crawl around while wrapped in a blanket, reached his ears. There was another thud.

Tyler sighed. He could tell it was going to be a long day.

--

He wasn't really awake yet, but he supposed it would have to do. Now that he was no longer sleeping, Trian could feel the hunger gnawing at him. He stared thoughtfully at the cooking stuff they had in the cupboard, wondering what he should cook. Something simple; after all, it was his first time.

Pancakes? Noodles? Scrambled eggs? Decisions, decisions…

He finally settled for scrambled eggs. Mainly because they were out of pancake mix (his father must've taken it all when he set out for Comodo) and there were no noodles left (his mother probably took those). Humming a little tune that he had learnt from a visiting bard, Trian cracked the eggs on the side of the frying pan. Stirring and folding the eggs with a spatula, soon he had some…passable…scrambled eggs. Not too bad for his first time cooking. The only problem was that some of the egg was stubbornly stuck to the bottom of the frypan, but no matter! They had something vaguely edible, and that was all that mattered.

Whistling happily, he turned to scrape the eggs onto a plate. It wasn't long before Trian realised there was a burning smell. He turned to the stove. Nothing burning there. Frowning, he became aware that his back was getting rather hot. Then he realised why.

…His hair was on fire.

Giving a scream of horror (under normal circumstances, he would have been embarrassed at how high-pitched and incredibly girly his voice sounded), Trian flailed at the flames to no avail. Attracted by the burning smell coming from the kitchen and Trian's screams, Tyler put his book down and carefully made his way to the kitchen.

"Aaaaah, fire! Delugedelugedeluge!" Trian yelled at him.

Not questioning the circumstances, Tyler complied. At the sage's command, a wave of water washed over Trian, becoming a pool of water held in an invisible container at the wizard's feet. Trian sighed as the burning sensation stopped before he sat down on the floor, slightly dazed. His hair was a total and absolute mess and there was a blackened singe on his shirt. But he was too shocked to chuck a fit over the state of his ruined hair and clothes. Everything was numb, as if it was all a dream (but that was probably from the cold water).

"I am never, _ever_ cooking again."

From then on, the pair always dined at the Café Soleil.

--

Author's notes: Why didn't Trian stop-drop-and-roll? Well, he's dumb like that xD. He's got no common sense whatsoever. Good thing those two can actually afford to eat out every meal. Myself, I have no idea how to make scrambled eggs xD I've made it before, but I can't remember how I did it? Dx Umm, Novice vs Poring will be delayed while I write up a Christmassy story yay.


	13. The Beginning, Middle and End

Author's Notes: Apologies for not doing the Christmas thingy or Novice vs Poring, but this was an idea that was quite clear in my head. Done as part of my own personal 100 Arts Challenge (the list can be under my Free Hugs Campaign dA journal entry). The art that accompanies this short will (eventually) be done.

--

Title: The Beginning, Middle and End.

Words: 1 076

Summary: It saw their beginning and saw them until their end.

--

The tree had been there from the very start. They had been mere children, tiny little magicians enjoying a nice day in Yuno. Not many people came to where the tree was, as it was growing at the edges of the floating city. Yuno did not have guard rails to prevent overly curious children or clumsy adults from accidentally falling off, so most citizens gave the city's edges a wide berth.

But the two little magicians either didn't realise how dangerous it was near the edge, or didn't care. When they first discovered the tree, the white haired one was leading (or rather, dragging) the blind one around the city. When they came to the tree, the white haired one looked up at it in awe. It couldn't have been because it was big; it was not. It could not have been because it was pretty; it had never flowered. But whatever the reason, the children were drawn to the tree like a bee to a flower. They laughed and tried to catch the tree's orange leaves as they fell in autumn, they rolled in the yellowing grass in summer.

"This will be our tree from now on!" The mage with the white hair declared. He promptly knelt by the ground and drew with a stick in the dark soil the names Trian and Tyler.

There were many more days where the little mages ran and played by the tree, climbing its willowy branches (and falling). But there came a day where the two little mages were no longer mages, and no longer very little. There came a day where their names were no longer written defiantly in the soil in front of the tree. But they always returned to the tree. No longer did they run about and climb its willowy branches. These days, the one with the white hair, now a wizard, often dozed off while the blind one, now a sage, would read.

Those days were peaceful, but in later days to come, that would not always be the case.

The tree had seen their blood, it had seen their tears. It had seen them in their best moments, it was only logical it would see them in their worst. In those times, the tree shook and dropped leaves as the blind sage slammed the wizard, now a high wizard, into it. Those were days of angry words, nights of frustrated tears. In those days, they didn't visit the tree together. Alone, their wounds bled freely over the tree. The tree became their solace when they could not find comfort in each other. It could listen to their frustrations, their worries, their cares without judgement. It allowed them to voice aloud their deepest fears, to take away some of their hurt, so that their wounds could begin to heal.

It took time, a lot of time. But they had all the time in the world. Or so they thought.

Their differences settled, the high wizard and sage, now a scholar, began to extensively travel the land of Rune-Midgard. They always returned to Yuno, to the tree and relived their memories aloud, as if they were telling an old friend of their travels. Those were simple days, where they merely talked and repeatedly recounted times past, as if they wanted to etch their lives into the tree with words. There were many, many days like these, and soon the pair began to take for granted that there would always be more of them.

But mortals do not live forever. And despite what the rest of the world thought, they were still mere mortals.

There came a day when the high wizard could no longer make the short walk to the tree. Much time passed where the pair did not, could not visit. But even then, the tree even saw the very last moments before they could no longer visit it together.

The high wizard was dying.

He didn't look like it, but he was getting old, as was the scholar. The pair had long exceeded the normal life expectancy, and didn't know when they would no longer have any days left to live. But, unlike the scholar, as the high wizard aged, the black 'disease' he held was slowly paralysing him. It had lain dormant for many years, only giving him a limp in his left lag. But slowly, it was starting to creep to the rest of his body. Soon it was not the scholar who needed the high wizard to bring him places, but the high wizard who needed the scholar. They both knew they had precious little time left together, but didn't want to acknowledge that…

…the high wizard was going to die any day.

At his request, the high wizard was brought to the tree, the scholar watching over him. His final days were spent lying against the scholar by the tree, enjoying what would be his last summer. He tried to remember everything and retell it all. One hundred and eighty years of his life, and he tried to fit it all into a few days.

_Remember when we were just kids and did stupid things?_

_Remember when we used to fight and we'd come here to sulk?_

_Remember when we just came here to talk and listen to each other?_

_Remember when…?_

As the darkness finally caught up with the high wizard, all that remained were a mere breath of wind, past memories and a tree that had watched over them through their days.

The tree was the most poignant reminder Tyler of his times past with Trian. So many of their memories were forged right here, by that tree. It was the only thing that had lasted from the very beginning, through the middle, right until the end. Even their own house had not lasted, having had a good portion of it destroyed by a fireball from the passed high wizard.

Tyler pressed a hand against the tree's trunk. It had been more than one and a half centuries since he had first come to know the tree. He and Trian had poured their lives, their memories into that one tree. Tyler was sure it had seen many things, witnessed many days, many lives pass it by. The tree had been there to see Trian's life, beginning, middle and end. Would it still be there to see Tyler's to his final breath as well?

He hoped so.

--

Author's Notes: If you go to the bottom right corner of Yuno, there is a small park-like area (only without the kiddy rides). It's around this area that this short takes place. Like the title suggests, the 3 themes I used for the 100 arts challenge was Beginning, Middle and End. Although I wouldn't be surprised if someone thought the subject was a tree or days lol. Not quite the way I would like to write the (final) chapters of their lives, but I'm probably more attached to this version. The other one reeks of pseudo-necrophilia o-O Or at least that's what one of my friends say…

I always find it hard to write emotional stories, mainly because…well…I'm so apathetic. Still, I hope you enjoyed this ;) Because I'll probably have no net access until mid-Jan (going holidays), I'll wish y'all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year:D


	14. No Regrets

Author's Notes: Just a little quickie before I return to Perth (and check my mail etc. etc. Computer access was rare and sporadic while I've been in the eastern states). Insert (minor) spoiler warning for my next story, _The Spectres of Amatsu_ (ew boring title).

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Title: No Regrets

Words: 100

Summary: He has no regrets.

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"My past? What's there to know about it? I killed, I stole, I did anything to stay alive. Life was hard at first in Morroc, but when I got better, I guess I didn't need to kill anymore."

Adrianna leveled her analytical gaze at NightEyes. "Do you regret killing?" she asked him, no judgment in her voice. Only the request that he answer her truthfully.

He brushed aside the hair that covered his right eye so he could look her in the eyes. With a face drained of its usual light-heartedness, he answered as sincerely as he ever had.

"No."

--

Author's Notes: Oh look, I managed to get it in exactly 100 words. W00t! I don't know, but I think most cold-blooded assassins turned good would have said 'yes'. Comments and criticism welcome.


	15. The Attack

Author's Note: A little short that popped into my mind at school. Stupid muses wouldn't leave me alone.

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Title: The Attack

Words: 157

Summary: The perfect strike is a clean one.

--

Rai'den took a brief moment to admire the dull shine on his weapon of choice. Its sharp point gleamed maliciously in the Morroccan sunlight. Narrowing his eyes, he focused on his target. He had to make sure he pierced exactly the right spot with minimum fuss. Rai'den wanted the wound to be as small and as clean as possible. More blood than what was absolutely necessary would simply be…messy. And as a well-trained assassin, messiness would be an affront to his skill.

As swift as a sidewinder's strike, he thrust the metal he held in his hand forward. But his intended victim moved. Quickly, he adjusted his strike and hit his intended mark, but not with the perfection he craved. Blood slowly oozed from the wound he had made. Messy, messy, messy. Completely unacceptable.

"Ow, fuck!" NightEyes glared at the assassin as he clutched his bleeding ear. "Rai'den, you lying bastard, you said getting piercings doesn't hurt!"


	16. Connubiality

Author's Notes: I would come up with something witty for a summary if words didn't fail me. Strangely enough, this was inspired by _Othello. _Does this story make up for my 'killing' of the two dorks? xD Unfortunately, we'll be revisiting death again :x

Edit: Fixed a couple of mistakes.

--

Title: Connubiality

Words: 463 (4x 100 word drabbles)

Summary: A marriage of affection, faithfulness, unconditionality and permanence.

--

"_Secure in my knowledge you will be my constant friend, my faithful partner in life…"_

--

Sometimes Tyler wondered why he bothered. Trian was a pain to wake up in the mornings, he could be incredibly thoughtless, he could be quite loud, often he was incredibly dense, he was moody, he was bad at cooking, he was self-centred, he was a brat, he rolled in his sleep, he didn't pick up after himself, he was too lazy, he was too energetic, his whistling was out of tune, he spent too much time on his hair, he was _justtoomuchtrouble_!

But then when Trian talks, Tyler remembers he doesn't need a reason to stay with the frustrating man.

--

"_...in the presence of God, I give you my pledge to stay by your side in sickness and in health…"_

--

Trian sneezed. Sniffing, he dabbed his nose with the end of his sleeve, even though the action was an affront to his sense of hygiene. He had no tissues and his only handkerchief was in the hands of another. Besides, it was currently covered in pus.

Feeling something beginning to drip, he brought the insanitary sleeve to his nose again. He was _so_ going to disinfect his shirt later.

"Tyler, next time you get sick, keep your disgusting germs away from me."

The sage simply laughed at him. "I guess even we can't cure the common cold with our magic."

--

…_in joy and in sorrow, for richer or poorer…"_

--

Tyler was happy Trian was finally talking to him again. Almost dying tended to erase the blackboard of disagreements. But…

When Trian said he sent a signal to get attention, he really meant it. There was nothing left of their house except blackened remains. Tyler could smell the acrid smoke left behind by the fire. He could just imagine a fireball bursting free of the roof like a bomb thrown through a window. Trian sheepishly scratched the side of his head.

"That…wasn't very smart."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"…Good thing we can afford a new house."

"…Very good thing."

--

"…_As long as we both shall live, until death do us part."_

--

"It's not the end you know."

Trian doesn't believe him. Not when Tyler's holding onto him so tightly, as if he never wants to let him go. This has happened before. When he was in a coma, when they were bleeding more than they should've been, when he went somewhere he shouldn't have…

He doesn't understand though. "It isn't?"

The scholar's breath is warm against his neck. Something cold and wet drops onto his skin and slides down his back. Tilting his head, Trian sees the dampness in the cloth that covers Tyler's eyes.

"No, death is just another beginning."


	17. Learning the Bow

Author's Notes: I really do wonder if I should post these, because half the time they contain spoilers o.o But I suppose the spoiler in this case isn't so bad, because it was the journey that was more important, not the end result.

--

Title: Learning the Bow

Words: 1 221 (palindromic!)

Summary: Half the battle is in your mind.

--

"Hey Yeon, we'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Yeon barely acknowledged the departure of his friends, focusing on the centre of the target. He let fly his arrow, watching it arc gracefully in the air. But the arrow didn't strike the bullseye like he wanted. Instead, it hit one of the outer rings of the practice target. Unhappy with the shot, Yeon tried again, until all five of his arrows had left his quiver. None of them came close to hitting the bullseye. Giving a growl of frustration, Yeon sat down with a resigned sigh. He had been practicing a lot so that he could become a hunter like his parents. But he was just so lousy at archery. Sure, he could hit the centre a few times, but afterwards, his shots were always far from the mark. It was driving him nuts! He was starting to get tired of trying. Maybe he just wasn't meant to be an archer…

"Try again."

Yeon looked up to see a blonde man squatting beside him, holding out five arrows. The stranger's clothing was similar to a hunter's garb, yet it was strangely different at the same time. Yeon couldn't help but notice the way the stranger's left arm seemed to drag in the grass. Cat-like ears poked out from a hair band under his hair, similar to the kitty bands children sometimes wore. Yeon nearly laughed aloud. A fully grown man wearing a child's hair piece?

His thoughts were pulled back to the situation on hand, and his heart sank. "What's the point?" Yeon replied with a sullen sigh. "I'm a lousy archer. I don't know why I bother anymore." _And besides,_ he added silently to himself, _it's none of your business._

"Just try again," the man insisted, proffering the arrows.

Yeon shot to his feet, grinding the edge of his teeth in irritation. "Fine! I'll try again, if it'll make you stop pestering me!" Snatching the arrows from the man's hands, he haphazardly fired one at the practice target. This time, the arrow buried itself into the grass under the board.

Turning to the stranger, he snapped, "Look, there! I tried! And I didn't even hit the target! Are you happy now?"

"No. You didn't try at all."

The blonde stood up. The first thing Yeon realised was how…tall…the stranger was. He could only think as he stared in awe, _He's…really…really…tall…_

"Look, I used to be like you," the stranger continued, giving him a vague smile. There was something in the blonde's voice that made all the anger fade from Yeon. "I used to get discouraged once I made one lousy shot. Then everything went downhill from there. Every arrow from then goes further and further from the mark, and I started thinking, why am I trying? I'm a terrible archer, there's no point in trying anymore. Sound familiar?"

Yeon stared at him. Those words bore uncanny resemblance to his earlier thoughts.

"If you don't hit your mark, don't lose concentration. Simply readjust and focus your mind. Say to yourself, 'I will hit my target'. Pick the smallest point you can see to aim at. Don't aim for the bullseye, aim at the hole another arrow has made in the centre." Bending down so that he was eye level with the young archer, the stranger said with a soft smile, "Try again, and this time, focus."

Yeon paused and looked up at the stranger. There was something in the stranger's voice, something that told Yeon he'd really like to see him shoot again. Raising his bow, this time Yeon focused. Remembering everything he had been taught, he pulled back his bowstring at let fly. This time, the arrow hit one of the inner circles. Eyes wide, Yeon looked up at the stranger, who smiled and nodded, as if asking him to continue. Three more arrows flew from Yeon's bow, each landing closer to the centre than the last.

"Wow…" Yeon couldn't help but grin at his achievement.

The tall blonde smiled at the small archer. "You have to remember, in archery, it's all about this." The stranger tapped the side of his head. "Straight mind, straight body, my instructor always used to tell me."

A frown creased the young archer's face as a thought struck him. "Hey, if you know so much about archery, how come I don't see you around the archery grounds? Every archer comes here at least once a day."

Yeon noted how the man reflexively clutched his left arm. "Oh umm…that's because…I was involved in an…accident. To cut a long story short, I can't use a bow anymore."

"That's terrible! I don't know _what_ I would do if I couldn't use a bow anymore. I'd probably die if something like that happened to me."

The stranger got a wistful look on his face. "Oh, it wasn't so bad after a while. With some help, I found something else I'm better at."

Yeon was about to ask the stranger what he did now, but was interrupted by a harsh cry from the skies. Looking up, the pair saw a falcon circling above them. The stranger gave shrill whistle in response. The falcon took it as a sign to swoop down and land on his outstretched arm. Yeon watched in fascination as the falcon seemed to give the man a disapproving glare before flying off again. Laughing, the stranger said, "Oh dear, I'd better go before my si–"

"Bucky, don't you _dare_ run off on me! I won't hesitate to shoot you if you do!"

As if carried by the wind, a tall, blonde woman virtually appeared next to the stranger. She was wearing similar clothing to him, but carried a bow. Her bow, though, was larger than the standard _gakkung_ horn bows. A wolf trotted into view shortly after her appearance, sending Yeon fumbling for arrows. However, instead of mauling the blonde pair, it promptly sat on the male's feet and scratched its ear.

"M-Miara, I wasn't um…expecting to see you…" The man Yeon now knew as Bucky (was that really his name?) took a step back from the woman.

She prodded him with her bow. "Of course you were, but you were so busy _talking_ you forgot to run away. Next time, _tell_ me where you're going, okay? It's not like your dumb animals can talk."

The man's meek behaviour when she appeared suddenly dissipated. Frowning and folding his arms, he said, "Have you been bullying them again? They're not for eating, sister."

"I'll shoot your bird and barbeque him if you keep on doing this. And you dumb dog too." She paused. "Just what were you doing here anyway?"

"Just remembering past times, that's all." He turned to Yeon. "I hope you continue your archery. I think you would make a good hunter, given more time and practice. And don't forget, half the battle is in your mind. Mani ma chu sayo."

The blonde's accent was off, sounding more Pronteran than Payonese (he didn't look local anyway), but Yeon could recognise his parting words for what they meant. Have many hits. The young archer couldn't help but grin. As the strange pair left, Yeon turned to the practice target and gave a slight bow.

"Hwal bae oom ni da," he whispered, before taking up his bow again.

--

Author's Note: 'Hwal bae oom ni da' roughly means 'I am learning the bow' in Korean. Most of Payonese related stuff is all research, speculation and assumptions on how things work, so I could be a bit off on the Korean stuff. I can't believe I just wrote something (partly) about improving archery technique when I suck so bad at it xDDD This one came out a lot worse than I imagined, but I don't have the heart to edit/rewrite it.

All the same, comments and criticism welcome.


	18. Low and High

Author's Notes: A rather simplistic thingy (writing style-wise) quickly written up. Unedited.

--

Title: Low and High

Words: 400

Summary: A conversation between a farmer and a high wizard.

--

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, not really. There ain't much a high up like you can do, I think. No offence, your wizardship, but I'm thinking someone like you won't know how to do boring stuff like working a farm."

"I'm willing to learn."

A little surprise, but some curiosity. "Well, I s'pose you could help muck out the peco stables. It's a straightforward job, but I'm thinking you don't want to deal with shit, pardon my Pronteran."

Un-insulted. "There are times you end up knee deep in shit before you realise it. If no one clears it away, it festers and rots and smells pretty damn bad."

"I s'pose that's one way of putting it. So you still want to continue? You sure are a weird one. Just go 'round back and tell 'em I sent you."

"Sorry, who will?"

"Florian, the short runt hanging around there."

"I see. Thank you."

A pause, afterthought. "Oh, and you might want to get something to tie your hair out of the way. Wouldn't want that falling into the peco crap."

--

"Hm, you didn't do a half bad job. Thought you were going to do worse, actually. You might not be a ponce like the others."

A sigh of exhaustion. "I can't say I've done much manual labour before. I'm going to feel _so_ much pain tomorrow, I know it."

A brief chuckle. "You get that. Sometimes the pain's worse some days, really sucks when the weather's against you as well. But we've gotta get up and keep working."

"Your work is admirable."

"'Bit strange hearing that from someone like you."

"Without people like you, cities would die. You can have towns without wizards, without knights. But you can't have a city without a source of food."

"If what I do is so admirable, then why don't you do it? I ain't meaning to offend, but I'm just wonderin'."

"I'm not as strong-willed as you are to do something like this. I'm a naturally lazy person. There are some traits I share with the rich and well-to-do, unfortunately." A pause. "Unfortunately, this is the end of my break. I suppose this is farewell."

"Well, if you get tired of all your magic and whatever it is you actually do, you're welcome to come back and clean up the peco shit again."

A smile, happiness. "Maybe I will."


	19. Wars of Apathy

Author's Notes: A form of venting my anger and disappointment, because the usual way wasn't working. Also, this is perhaps an attempt to understand my own apathy which, unlike Rai'den's, has cracks in it. Four 60 word sections to make the whole.

--

Title: Wars of Apathy

Words: 240

Summary: The winners win nothing.

--

When his parents were murdered in their sleep, Rai'den didn't bat an eyelid. He simply pushed aside those dangerous emotions of anger and revenge to calmly continue what he had to do. He became an impeccably professional assassin, but didn't bother seeking out his family's killers.

He _did_ kill them though, but it was only because they were his assignment.

When he saw that woman with that angelic smile, Rai'den kept on walking. He simply collected the confusing emotions of love and lust and threw them out the window. She followed him, though, laying sweet words and warm touches on him. He felt nothing for her.

In the end, she turned out to be an assassin sent to kill him.

When he had been passed up for a promotion by a mere newbie, Rai'den betrayed no emotion at all. He simply drowned any resentment and dissected the situation with a cold, calculating mind. He gathered information, acquired more contacts and concocted plans, ignoring the jeering, unprofessional taunts.

He didn't need promotions anymore; he was at the top of the ladder.

When he met that thief and poring, Rai'den did what he had always done. He simply caged any feelings and pushed them into the bottom of a deep pit. He helped them, because he knew that there is no point kicking the weak.

He watched them and saw how much life they had, and realised he had won too decisively.


	20. Divine Pretence

Author's Notes: A little quickie :D

--

Title: Divine Pretence

Words: 275

Summary: These beautiful lies are easier to believe than those horrible truths.

--

"Isn't Rune-Midgard one of the better worlds we've been to?"

Kris stared fixedly at swirling clouds in the sky through half-lidded eyes. She lay against a grassy hill, a constant stream of chatter coming from the taller blonde man, Roan, beside her. The strange, translucent creature known as Pthirin rested by their feet, curled inside her long, glowing tail. The creeping edge of darkness seeping into the flame-tree red of the sunset reminded her of how shadows hide the good things…and the bad.

"I mean, I've never seen a world with such a large human population while still having a vibrant wildlife!" Roan didn't mean it, but Kris could hear the 'isn't this better than your homeworld?' in his cheerful voice.

"Elarcil was like Rune-Midgard once." She closed her eyes to the clouds; they would soon turn dark behind her lids. These memories that weren't her own gave her knowledge beyond normal human understanding. But even then, how many of them were lies she would accept as truth? Even she could not understand the realm of gods, the nature of truth. "Elarcil was beautiful once…"

Kris knew the blonde was sitting up, keenly listening to her words. She never understood why he took her so seriously; lies fell from these lips more readily than truths. Some things would never change, even when she knew lies hurt more than heal. She had lost much to lies, but lies were easier to live with than truth.

But he, perhaps, deserved better.

"Rune-Midgard's dying, Roan," she whispered in his sudden, abrupt silence. "It's dying, just like Elarcil."

Dying slowly, rotting from the inside out, hidden by the lies.

--

Author's Notes: Ah, feels like a blast to the past. I haven't written these (original) characters in a long, long time. They're from a story that maybe one day, I'll come up with a plot for and finish it. Please note that Roan is my own character, not the one from Ragnarok the Animation.

Quick character summation:

Kris – thief who just happens to have 4 gods trapped in her body (I don't really want to get into the specifics of how that works D: )

Roan – world traveller (as in, he travels to different worlds). He brings Kris to different worlds. There used to be another who travelled with them…

Pthirin – a creature of the race known as the Children of the Moon. Mortally linked with Roan.

If you want a picture (from long ago) of Pthirin, it's here: www(dot)deviantart(dot)com/deviation/6829666/


	21. The Problem with Euphemisms

Author's Note: This is actually super old, but I lost it ages back (along with the final chapters of _Things Unforgotten_). Luckily, I managed to find this (but not the TU chapters). That said, enjoy XD Edit: fixed a couple of mistakes

--

Title: The Problem with Euphemisms

Words: 959

Summary: Euphemisms are a source of miscommunication.

--

Trian stood bleary-eyed before Yuno's Sage Council, Tyler beside him, looking far more awake than he did. He was a little fuzzy on the details on _why_ they were here. It was far too early to even be awake, let alone think. He was still sore from being kicked off the bed by Tyler, and his friend had decided it would be funny to cast a Deluge where he landed. It was a good thing Tyler had enough control over his magic that none of the water had spilled out of its virtual container and flooded the room as well. As it was, his hair was a dripping mess. Tyler hadn't allowed him to fix it, complaining they were already an hour late. Proper as it was to keep schedules, this meeting was completely out of the blue. Trian didn't see why they had to be here when they had not been informed of it at least a day earlier. And now he was leaving puddles on the stone floor. This was completely unacceptable, and would ruin his image and reputation.

Unfortunately, he had no idea what his reputation actually was.

Leaning on his dragon-headed staff, Trian addressed the Council. "Forgive me for being a little less…eloquent than I would if I was fully awake, but _why_ have you dragged me out of my bed at this obscene hour of the morning?"

"It's _eleven_ in the morning," Tyler said reproachfully. "It's almost afternoon!"

There was a cough from the Head Sage of the Council. "Funny you should mention beds," she said. "There have been…rumours of you two sleeping together."

Trian blinked. "Yeah, we sleep with each other. So what?"

A murmur ran through the room as a tinge of red appeared on Tyler's face. The Head Sage seemed to be taken aback at his casual response. "I…see…if that's the case then…"

Another female sage cut in. "I hear you can do incredible things with your…staff." She paused to glace at Trian's dragon-headed staff before slowly licking her lips. "Is that true?"

Trian had no idea what these people were trying to get at. Of _course_ he could do things with his staff. He was a _wizard_. His staff amplified his magical power. Every mage knew that. He rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course."

Most of the Council members by now were coughing and looking away, turning red. Even Tyler was choking and looking embarrassed. Trian was completely in the dark. Why was everyone blushing? The female sage's grin grew wider. "Does it…come with any enhancements?" she asked Tyler.

"Councilwoman Misia, stay on topic!" the Head Sage reprimanded her severely, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Trian felt that he should interrupt. "Pardon me, but what _are_ you people talking about?"

The Head Sage looked at Trian incredulously. "You _did _say you two sleep with each other, did you not."

The wizard blinked. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

Tyler coughed. "I think when they said 'sleep with', they meant that we were…uh…banging each other up."

Trian raised an eyebrow. "…Uhh, what?" He was still as confused as ever.

"Shagging. Inserting the key in the keyhole," Councilwoman Misia provided helpfully. She began ticking off on her fingers as she talked. "Dancing on the other end of the ballroom. Rooting. Knocking each other up. Sucking a lollipop. Fooling around. Mounting. Snake charming. Getting it on. Humping. Dancing between the sheets. Playing around. Entering through the backdoor. Going at it like rabbits. Getting laid. Bonking. Taking a tumble through the hay. Spending the night together. P in the B. Boffing. Giving head. Doing it. Playing with candy. Riding. Snowballing. Doing the horizontal dance. Pleasuring each other. Losing your innocence. Screwing. Sucking the mango. Making the beast with two backs."

Trian just stared blankly at her. Misia sighed and rolled her eyes. "In other words, what we wanted to know is, are you having sex with each other?"

A ten second pause.

"Oh. My. God! Is _that _what all this is about? I can't believe this! That's just…_sick_! I can't believe you people think we're involved with each other like that!"

The Head Sage coughed. "Well, there have been some rather…explicit rumours of your sexual practices with each other. We merely want to clear them up."

Tyler winced, but nodded his consent. The Head Sage took Trian's silence as a 'yes' and continued. Consulting the list before her, she asked, "Any animals?"

"What?! No!"

"Any munaks, bon guns or sohees?"

"Are you kidding me? No!"

"Porings?"

"Is that even possible?"

"Corpses?"

"What the f…? Are you out of your mind?"

"What about young boys? We hear you've been luring children to your home."

"What do you take us for?"

"Weeell," Councilwoman steepled her fingers, "twins have been staying with you two recently. One of my sources informed me that one of them spent the majority of the time half naked in your bed. That would be a rather incestual foursome, would it not?" She seemed to gain humour at the embarrassed faces in the room.

Trian was too shocked to speak anymore. Tyler decided to intervene before the meeting dragged on for much longer. And before Trian was (more) mentally scarred. "I think…to save you the bother of asking all these questions, I'd like to make a statement that would clear all this up. Trian and I sleep in the same bed, but we do not engage in any kind of sexual activity. Will that do?"

"…Yes…thank you…" The Head Sage seemed relieved. She waved them away. "Both of you may take your leave."

There was a long pause after the pair had left.

"I…think…we should be inquiring as to _why_ you know so much about this, Misia."

The sage simply laughed.

--

Author's Notes: Comments and criticism welcome :D


	22. Bird

Author's Notes: VICTORRYYYYYY!!! _Finally_, after four days of trying to upload this, ffdotnet YIELDS to my spamming skillz. But seriously, a support link that doesn't work? That's seriously screwed up.

Originally meant to be a picture, found I didn't have the skill for it and decided to write it instead. Still don't have the skills. FAIL.

--

Title: Bird

Words: 367

Summary: They're not the same; even birds can tell the difference.

--

The faint flutter of wings caught Trian's attention, and he turned towards the sound. He recognised this place, this place he had been trying to avoid. But he had forgotten that often his feet had a mind of their own, and lead him here. Turning his eyes to the familiar tree, he caught a glimpse of Tyler's face under its leafy down. The soft lamplight reds and oranges slowly fell around him, fell around the professor in a dying cascade of life…

And he…he simply stood there, watching him.

The birds flocked around Tyler. They were everywhere, around his knees, perched on his shoulders like a living feathered cloak. They cooed their simple joys, and a light smile spread across Tyler's face in response. The professor looked so serene, so happy just sitting there, back against the tree, feeding the birds. How could he be so happy, so happy so soon? How was it that he…?

Trian hesitantly approached, arm outstretched as if he was trying to reach for something he didn't have. A flurry of feathers, and the arm retreated to shield him from the pigeons' alarmed flight to the sky. When the birds were gone, only they remained. Him and Tyler. Tyler and him.

While Tyler had drawn the birds to him, Trian had driven them away.

…Something about that irritated him.

Tyler tilted his head slightly, just slightly, in calm questioning. Tilting it up as if he was trying to follow the birds' flight. Cradled in his hands were the leftover seeds and grain the pigeons didn't finish taking. And the soft feathers were falling…

_Trian, is that you?_

Trian clenched his fists, nails digging deep into his flesh. Shit, he wasn't even supposed to come here. He was still angry, at him, at himself, at what, he didn't know. He didn't even know what the hell was so wrong anymore. He couldn't face him, couldn't say a word, couldn't change anything. Not yet.

Turning, he fled from Tyler, the departed birds, the feathers, and tree. He wasn't right, but he had never thought he could be wrong.

The seeds slid from those hands onto the grass and were left there, for the birds.

--

Author's Notes: Maybe one day I'll rewrite Deadly Enchantment, and write the sequel I've been thinking of but never came to a conclusive idea. I've been banging my head over what exactly the relationship of the two dorks is. In fact, you can see it (along with other character/world-building related stuff) in my livejournal (there's a link in my profile). Feel free to comment (and throw my arguments at my face) and critique my thoughts on my own characters (since half the time I don't know them well enough).

Btw, I don't like pigeons. They pooped on my school uniform when it was hanging out to dry D:


	23. Sleeping Positions

Author's Notes: Not the update I intended. I didn't even intend to update until I finished reading a few fics that I meant to review. But short concentration span from being sick made me splutter this one out. Unedited, unfortunately, but I have a very pressing matter that will be adressed at the end.

--

Title: Sleeping Positions

Words: 236

--

Trian had three main sleeping positions. His first and main one was just lying flat on his back. The second was curled on his side, where he usually unconsciously shuffled towards Tyler. Trian's back would eventually end up against Tyler's stomach, and Tyler would lazily drape his arms over the other before drifting back to sleep. Trian usually drooled all over the pillow; he didn't bother swallowing back the spit when he was on his side.

The third and most troublesome was when Trian was on his side, facing Tyler. It was these nights where Trian would be the one to tightly wrap his arms around Tyler, as if Tyler was his teddy bear. Unfortunately, because Trian was almost the same height as Tyler, when Trian tucked his head under Tyler's chin, the professor's head was forced up at an awkward angle, waking him from sleep. That was when Tyler would find out Trian's legs were wrapped around his own, their lower bodies a hopeless tangle of limbs. It was nights like these where Trian would be holding him so tightly it started to hurt, started to make Tyler ache in more than one way.

Sometimes he could feel the breath of Trian's moving lips against his neck. Sometimes he could hear the words, "Stay mine."

Tyler never found a way to make Trian let go, Trian wouldn't relinquish his hold until he woke up.

--

Author's Notes: I've come to a crossroads with Trian and Tyler's relationship. In my mind, there can only be two paths it can take. The first one, the one I had intended for their relationship to end up as, is one where it is never acknowledged. One where Trian remains his oblivious, selfish self and never realises Tyler's feelings. And Tyler doesn't mind their relationship doesn't move further. The second one, that I have been toying with a lot lately, is one where their relationship does deepen, does go past simple hugging. This will probably mean that they will no longer be just very, very close family/friends, but more as a (awkward) couple.

I like the first one because it's a kind of relationship I don't see as much on the net, and I'd like to explore it further. But I can't deny the fact there's a part of me that those two to go further.

...If I do that, this'll probably mean there'll be sex (and dammit, I really wanted to have a couple who don't have sex) and oh my god, I can imagine now how retarded it would be. It'd be the stupidest, stupidest scene ever. Especially when you have a dumbass virgin who'll be like "Where's the vagina? HALP HALP WHERE DO I PUT IT IN?" and you have a blind person who comes with the possibility of sticking it in the wrong place.

...There is also the fact that Trian will have to get over the mental hurdle of being romantically interested in someone who he consciously considers his brother.

Both paths are equally interesting to me. I'm aware these two are my characters, and it's ultimately up to me to decide. But I'd like to hear your opinions on this pair. What do you think I should do?


	24. Themes 1 to 25

Author's Notes: The first 25 themes in the 100 Themes Challenge (you can see the list in my bio). The characters involved are all from my RO canon. All are 100 words.

As for T&T's relationship, after chewing over feedback from online and real life friends, I've made my (tentative) decision. Altogether, it was rather spilt even both ways o 3oa;;

--

100 Themes

Themes 1-25

--

_Introduction_

Trian had thought he had escaped introductions when he graduated from Yuno's Magician Academy. His copy of _An Introduction to Magic_ had been virtually untouched; the only time he had opened it was to cram for an exam. He never saw the book again; he must have left it under the tree when he realised he had overslept and dashed to the examination room.

At Geffen, he tried not to yawn as his teacher introduced the theory of magic. Trian preferred skipping past introductions straight to practical application.

He soon found out there were a lot more introductions to come.

--

_Love_

Someone had once mentioned to NightEyes that love was unconditional.

Adrianna gave up a lot of time for him. She was unbelievably patient, she forgave his mistakes, she cleaned up when he made a mess of things. She loved him for all his flaws.

He had conditions, though. He was reckless, he was independent, he was still the kleptomaniac. He didn't want to change his ways. If she tried to tie him down, tried to change him, he wouldn't have stayed; there were plenty of others out there for him.

Yet he still felt something for her.

It wasn't love.

--

_Light_

The Pronteran Church preached many things to its acolytes. Most of its teachings were readily absorbed by the young children, unquestioningly. But Keithy, even to this day, had found the words of the Church often struck jarring chords within him.

_Be not yoked together with unbelievers, for what fellowship has righteousness with lawlessness? What communion has light with darkness?_

Keithy didn't understand that at all. What was the point in only associating with those who believe? What was the point in helping those who already have aid?

He thought that was as useful as a lit candle during the day.

--

_Dark_

He had lived in darkness since the very beginning. Blind from birth, Tyler didn't know he had been living in the dark; there was no light for contrast.

Later, decades into his life, he was finally able to get a glimpse of something other than darkness. But the sight was soon snatched away from him, blind again.

At times, when he was floating in the Stream, Tyler thought he could make out something, a shape, something moving. The images, if they could be called that, were fuzzy, dark, indistinct. But he was thankful; they were better than nothing at all.

--

_Seeking Solace_

It was a long time before they could accept each other's presence without killing each other. The stalker's ghost couldn't believe he was trapped with his killer, and the Samurai couldn't believe he was stuck with this annoying brat.

Then the brat started moping and complaining about how he wasn't getting any and how it was _his_ fault and he had better make up for it, and for some strange reason, he decided he would.

It felt strange talking to a sentient being again, felt strange seeking each other out. The sex was cold, though, as dead as they were.

--

_Break Away_

Lorianne made it her life goal to do everything other than what was expected of her. She protected her useless mother, left her abusive father, and become the most berserk knight in the Chivalry. When she realised the other knights began to expect her to be constantly ill-tempered, she left Prontera.

Knowing that someone would have predicted her departure pissed her off.

In the end, she gave up trying to break away the mould she was cast in. If she didn't care about what others thought, then she wouldn't bother trying to be different from what others saw in her.

--

_Heaven_

After she parted ways with the ghost, Lise gave the idea of heaven and hell more thought. As a child, she had been taught that non-believers went to hell after they died. As a priestess, she firmly believed she was going to heaven.

But, thinking back, that didn't seem right, didn't seem fair to her. What about the non-believers who still brought joy to the world? What about the sinful members of the clergy?

It wasn't until she had been through hell and glimpsed heaven, Lise realised that heaven and hell weren't alternate realms.

They were both states of mind.

--

_Innocence_

Poing was not, in his opinion, lazy. He believed he was merely utilising the resources available to him.

When he saw familiar blobs of pink and green coming towards him with their cute little smiles, he couldn't help but smile himself. Living life as an angeling wasn't as bad as he had thought, when he was younger.

Then he saw a red and white hat.

"What did you lot do now? Mug Santa or something?"

The porings and poporings grinned and bounced up and down.

Poing hadn't told them to do that. He was innocent of this crime, for once.

--

_Drive_

When her feet first found rhythm, Jasmine swayed with the music, smiling. She liked dance, liked the feeling of achievement, euphoria.

Jasmine wanted to be the best dancer in Comodo, forever, unmatched, remembered eternally.

It was for this reason, she trained relentlessly. She danced and danced and danced and danced, until she couldn't anymore. But then, even in her mind, her dreams, she still danced, never ending, eternal. The mantle of goddesshood was difficult to obtain, but she would achieve it, and be forever young, immortal.

It was the only thing keeping her going. After that, there was nothing more.

--

_Breathe Again_

Keilith pressed his tongue against the end of the cigarette stub, trapping it between his bottom row of teeth, all too aware of how close the burning end was to the roof of his mouth. He breathed in, the smoke thick and heady, slightly sickening.

Sometimes he forgot to breathe, when he was outside watching the stars. He would be still, as if he was dead, and sometimes he wished he was. Keilith picked the stub out from his mouth before the ash filled his mouth, and flicked it onto the ground, grinding it.

This time, he remembered to breathe.

--

_Memory_

The Stream chose a serpentine shape when it decided to appear before mortal eyes. The Stream did it partly in remembrance of the World Serpent from a time long ago – or was it yesterday? Time meant little to the Stream – when the old gods were alive. What was it that caused the old gods to die, or leave? The Stream didn't, couldn't, remember.

The Middle People used the image of a serpent swallowing its tail as a symbol of cyclicality, and the Stream remembered Jormungand. The Stream thought it was fitting when the past, present, future were mingled, intertwined, inseparable.

--

_Insanity_

She was not insane. She just knew the truth.

Kathryn Keyron knew she was better than the past high wizards. All of them were weak fools who couldn't handle the truth of the world.

The duty of a high wizard was to ensure the world's population never reached the limit the world could support. The Stream had given her the means, the power, to do so, so she did it.

Kathryn decided she wanted to get something for doing the dirty work, so she didn't let the blood go to waste.

She was not insane. She just knew the truth.

--

_Misfortune_

Lise thoughtfully chewed the bottom of her lip, pressing her fingers on the corners of the card.

"So this is the Tarot card for Death?" she asked the reader, staring at the card. The card featured a black armoured skeleton upon a white horse. The horse had one hoof raised, as if it were to crush the child before it. In the field behind Death lay a fallen man, a king, perhaps.

Seeing it show up in her reading worried Lise, just a little. Was her death really that near?

The reader pointed to the rising sun in the background.

--

_Smile_

"How may I be of service to you?"

Keithy always said those words with a smile. Some people would raise their eyebrows at this, thinking of something more unsavoury. But Keithy thought his words were more personal than "How may the Pronteran Church be of service to you?"

The official greeting felt cold, uncaring, to him. He supposed it was because he found it hard to imagine a white, stone building stooping to help anyone.

So he always greeted strangers with a warm smile and the words that promised help from a living person. And soon they weren't strangers anymore.

--

_Silence_

Keilith didn't realise his world was so full of noise until he started looking for silence. Even when he was alone in a quiet room, he could still hear the inhale, exhale, of his own breathing.

Outside, in the sound dampening snow in Lutie, the wind howled in his ear. In front of the dead, the recent, familiar, dead, it still wasn't silent, deathly silent.

As he leaned his head against her gravestone, a wry smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. A stray thought crossed his mind after he closed his eyes.

That was the sound of silence.

--

_Questioning_

Poing found it vaguely unsettling that NightEyes never questioned anything. He was expecting the boy to be more rebellious and challenge his authority rather than just going along with whatever he said.

So one night, outside a building with a burning lamp hanging by the door, he asked the boy why he just seemed to accept everything, why he didn't question what he was told.

The orange-yellow flame cast a sickly light on the child's face. A flame that wouldn't last very long uncared for.

NightEyes idly explored the contents of his nose with his little finger. "Why, should I?"

--

_Blood_

When he had gotten his life changing injury, the first thing that became ingrained in Buck's memory was how much blood there was. All down his arm, across his torso and grazes along his legs. He had agonised over how the blood wouldn't come out of his clothing.

Now, Buck found the idea of washing the blood out absurd. These days, he carried bloodstains all over his jacket like a trophy, with tales of survival. The blood became a part of him, and he wouldn't give anything to replace it.

Unfortunately, his twin sister didn't see things the same way.

--

_Rainbow_

As children, Aleran, Rosa and Xildali used to play in streams near Prontera. Xildali could remember their carefree laughter as they splashed each other under the hot summer sun. Nevermind that they were following different paths; at the time it didn't seem important.

As adults, they were all too aware of constraints placed on them by their chosen professions. Xildali wished for times where they could be children again, times when he wasn't isolated from the other two.

If he had cared to look, back then, he would have seen a rainbow in the spray of water, bridging the gap.

--

_Grey_

One and a half centuries later, they were still alive. Trian vaguely wondered, after staring at his slowly blinking reflection in a mirror, how he would know when he was starting to age. His face, mostly unchanged, had only gained slight wrinkles from the smiles in his latter years.

In other cities, he heard people refer to their aging as going grey. Their hair would lose their lustre, changing to grey, then finally, white.

Trian absentmindedly wound a lock of his hair around his finger. He never went through the grey stage; his hair had been white to start with.

--

_Fortitude_

The Yunoan Sage Council knew Prontera was looking for an opportune moment to try and attack Yuno. So they paraded its two transcendent citizens before Prontera to deter it from invading Yuno.

Almost one and a half centuries later, the current ruling Council realised its predecessor's mistake; they had ingrained into the Pronterans that the only forces that could stop a Pronteran invasion were the transcendents. And they were now dead.

So the Council spread rumours in Prontera of unusually high physical and mental fortitude in the Yunoan citizens, making Yuno hard to defeat without immeasurable losses.

Prontera invaded anyway.

--

_Vacation_

Other members of the clergy were often jealous of Aleran's job. As one of the few who could speak multiple languages (or, at least, not insult the locals), he was often sent to other cities with their own language; Comodo, Geffen, Payon, his own beloved Yuno. He had even been to the cities off the mainland, Amatsu, Ayothaya, Gonryun…

Xildali once jokingly mentioned that it was like having a vacation, all the time. Aleran couldn't disagree more. His job took him away from home, and it really wasn't a vacation if he couldn't bring the people he loved with him.

--

_Mother Nature_

Buck spotted a baby hawk on the ground, twisted out of shape from its failed attempt at flying. Just as nature could bear life, she could snatch it back. It seemed rather cruel, though. The dead bird looked pitiful, it truly did.

He reached out to pick it up, bury it maybe, but realised the body was covered in ants. Flies would soon come, and from the corpse more would be born. Soon, there would be nothing left of the bird.

He watched the ants. Buck found it fascinating that Mother Nature found a way to turn death into life.

--

_Cat_

Tyler recalled a conversation that had carried on around him as he dined at the Café Soleil with Trian.

"If you were to describe yourself as an animal, what animal would you be?"

Tyler lay awake, his mind too cloudy to think of meaningful things like he usually did on sleepless nights like these. He idly thought of animals Trian was most like. A list of animals to consider appeared in his mind. A mythical phoenix, a goat, a peco peco, a seal…

Tyler thought Trian was rather like a domesticated cat. Selfish, obnoxious and annoying. But above all, lazy.

--

_No Time_

Her extensive research regarding the human body would take a long time. The development of an artificial human being would take even longer. From the very beginning, Adrianna knew she might not live to see the fruits of her efforts, but she hoped, deep down, she would.

By the time she found out he had given her a disease, the sand in her hourglass had almost completely trickled to the bottom. Her hourglass had far less sand than she had thought, she had unknowingly lost so much time, there wasn't enough to finish…!

…Soon, there was no time at all.

--

_Trouble Lurking_

NightEyes was always less sneaky, noisier, than the others. He was taller, paler, of a heavier build, than the native Morroccans. They blended into the shadows as easy as blinking. NightEyes, however, had trouble lurking in dark alleyways like them.

In the end, he gave up trying to be sneaky; they always knew he was around anyway. Instead, he decided to flaunt his strangeness. So he started wearing metal shod shoes and thin chains that jingled with every step.

But though he had trouble lurking, NightEyes didn't care; the sound of shinbones snapping under his kicks was well worth it.

--

Author's Notes: The number of male characters I have is rather distressing. I really need some female main characters other than Lise…


	25. 5 times Tyler wished he was deaf

Author's Notes: Thank the awesome people at the Oh Porings! forum for this, because they are A PLUS. One of the 5 things meme I got from fukys, who's Sachre on ff(dot)net.

--

**5 times Tyler wished he was deaf instead of blind**

1) "-- and then she _slapped_ me and started bitching about how I never pay attention to anyone else other than myself and then she said I was like a woman with my hair. A _woman_, of all things! Dammit, I am _Yuno_-born, _not_ Geffenese! I don't understand why the hell she singled me out! It's not _my_ fault she dropped everything to follow me here."

Tyler groaned and plugged his ears with his fingers. Unfortunately, that meant he couldn't continue reading. And he could still hear the muffled sounds of Trian's ranting.

"Do you know how long it took to wash the coffee she threw at me from my hair? _Two_ hours! Two! _Fucking_! HOURS! When I next see her I'm going to --"

-

2) Tyler liked to think the Council of Yuno ruled wisely, that they used their great intellect to keep Prontera from invading. He liked to think they knew what they where doing.

...But sometimes he could hear faint screams for mercy.

-

3) Tyler knew he shouldn't have listened to Trian, shouldn't have relinquished his hold on the Stream granted sight, shouldn't have said three little words he regretted immediately.

Trian didn't say anything, didn't move a muscle for a long moment, and then left without a word. If Tyler had been deaf, he could have shut his eyes and looked away. But he wasn't, and couldn't block out the silences where there should have been noise.

-

4) Their trip to Amatsu gave Tyler three immediate reasons for wanting to be able to see.

Firstly, he would be able to see all the (supposedly) beautiful sights of Amatsu for himself, rather than having to rely on Trian's overly excessive descriptions. While he was grateful for Trian's attempts to convey what he saw into something that would (hopefully) conjure the correct images in Tyler's mind, Tyler thought it would be far better if Trian didn't have to do it. Then, maybe, he could agree or disagree with Trian and actually mean it.

Secondly, he would be able to keep a closer eye on Trian and stop prevent him from doing stupid things. All too often, the idiot would run off and make a complete and absolute fool of himself _unintentionally_. Tyler would be able to see traps and hazards, both material and social, before Trian put his foot into them. And maybe he would have understood the _real_ reason why Ichiro oh-so-often dragged Trian away to go sightseeing sooner.

Thirdly, he would have been able to see the expression on Trian's face when the first born son of Amatsu's royal family proposed to the high wizard.

-

5) He could smell the subtle scent of grass and autumn leaves, damp and fresh, threaded in his hair. He could hear his breath, quietly controlled, hitch in his throat as he leaned in close. He could feel him shiver, hesitantly consenting, under his fingers. He could taste his evening coffee, bitter and sweet, when he kissed him.

All he wanted now was to be able to see him.

--

Author's Notes: That contained more Trian than I intended. Turned out more of a "5 times Tyler wished he wasn't blind" D:


	26. Random 10

Author's Notes: From the Random 10 Writing Challenge at the Word Guru LJ community. Not actually posted there. Also, a lot of my fics tend to be at my LJ, since I tend to do writing straight in my LJ instead of Word doc and uploading them here. In exams right now.

--******  
**

******001. Account**  
Whenever the pair got into trouble, mischief, whatever, it was always Trian who was held accountable.****

**002. Secret**  
"You didn't tell me," said Trian, half-angry and frustrated, fingers digging painfully into Tyler's wrist, and Tyler guiltily thought, _I didn't want you to know_.  
**  
****003. Chair**  
The only times Tyler ever sat in chairs was for business, and Trian always tried to avoid them when he could.  
**  
****004. Tree**  
When they were gone, the tree stood alone again, swaying slightly in the heady summer breeze.****

**005. Jealous**  
It was kind of funny how Trian would get jealous of the smallest things concerning Tyler without realising it; men, women, children, birds, the Stream, rain, books, magic, the other things Tyler loved that Trian couldn't take away from him.  
**  
****006. Soft**  
Neither of them were soft, but that didn't mean they couldn't be gentle.****

**007. Freezing**  
Tyler liked being caught in the rain, getting soaked until he could feel his bones shake as he shivered violently, but it was better when Trian would stand there beside him, because then both of them would be freezing cold.  
**  
****008. Shopping**  
Whenever they went clothes shopping, it was inevitably Trian who chose what they would buy with Tyler's money.  
**  
****009. Sunshine**  
After a passing comment about his pale complexion and staying indoors too much, Trian snapped back about how he spent more than enough time under the sun, why, everyday he was outside, except during winter, but Tyler couldn't help but point out that he spent most of that time outside sleeping under the shade of a tree.  
**  
****010. Snowflake**  
Tyler realised too late that despite all their travelling, they had somehow forgotten all about Lutie.**  
**


	27. Stream Disease

Author's Notes: You know, sometimes I forget Trian has a lame leg. Er, still need to catch up on reading.

--

Trian leaned against the armrest of their couch, sighing a little, his exposed legs lying across Tyler's lap. Trian couldn't contain a slight shiver as the professor ran his hands carefully down Trian's blackened left leg. Tyler applied a little extra pressure on Trian's thigh, eliciting an 'ouch' from the sudden sharp pain from the high wizard. Closing his eyes, Trian let Tyler continue to poke and prod at his leg.

"Hm, seems to be getting worse," Tyler said softly, hands moving across to squeeze Trian's knee.

Trian exhaled slowly through his nose. "Looks like it, doesn't it?"

"Can you feel anything?"

"Hm? Feel what?"

"…I guess not."

Trian cracked open his eyes to glance at Tyler, who now looked pensive, pausing in his examination of Trian's leg. The blind professor's hands rested on Trian's calf, but Trian couldn't feel them. Losing the feeling in his left foot was bad enough; when it happened, he couldn't tell if his foot had touched the ground, and consequently fell over. But now the numbness was spreading? Just how far would it go, he wondered.

"Can you roll your ankle?"

Trian tried. "…It's not moving."

They sat there in silence, neither of them moving, other than their slow inhale, exhale. Trian swallowed the lump in his throat, rubbing his tired eyes before saying quietly, "This is bad, isn't it?"

"…It's been over one hundred and seventy years, Trian."

"So what? Trian snapped angrily, abruptly sitting up. "That doesn't mean anything!"

Tyler said nothing.

Shoulders slumping, Trian leaned back against the armrest, looking away guiltily. Tyler began to run his hands back along the length of Trian's leg again, massaging the tightened muscles in the thigh. "I think the best we can do is slow its progress," Tyler said in his unwaveringly calm voice.

Trian didn't reply, not liking the way things were turning out, but having no idea what to do. He let Tyler continue to massage his leg, feeling the muscles slowly loosen a little, and closed his eyes. Lulled into a half sleep, he only jerked awake at a knock on their door. He leaned back to look at the door upside-down. A "It's Faith here, I'm coming in, alright?" came from the other side and before either of them could protest, the priestess walked straight into their home.

She only had to see a pair of pants on the floor, and Trian lying on Tyler's lap with the professor stroking his leg before turning a bright shade of red. "I'm sorry!" she squeaked, hurriedly backing out of the house. "I didn't realise you two were in the middle of something! I'll come back another time!" And she accidentally slammed the door behind her.

Trian blinked, before shrugging and slipping back into his half-sleep. Tyler hadn't stopped at all.

--

Author's Notes: Yes, apparently they don't lock their doors.


	28. A Bouquet of Flowers

Author's note: For once, this has nothing to do with my RO continuity. For once, I am writing the game.

--

Moments in Time

A Bouquet of Flowers

--

I had forgotten it was Valentine's Day. It wasn't something I usually noticed.

Gonryun Dungeon, a dangerous place for a low agi hunter like myself, especially since I don't bother to use traps. But I can't help but smile as I pull off every shot with precision, moving away immediately after every Double Strafe, so the Bloody Butterflies never managed to close the gap between me and them. There's a certain sense of satisfaction, knowing that pure skill (and lack of lag) is all that's saving your little character's life.

( From Tas ) : Hey, you free?

( From Tas ) : Where are you?

Tas had mentioned he would need some help hunting items for his quest skills, so I thought he wanted me to hunt them for him now.

( To Tas ) : Yeah, I'm at Gonryun D. Gimme a sec, I'll be with you in a mo.

But I didn't stop killing, not yet; I wanted dead branches from those peach trees. I still had SP left, there was no reason for me to stop.

I noted with vague surprise a pink triangle appearing on the mini map, before the crusader appeared on my screen. With things attacking him. I was already in auto-pilot, it didn't take long for me to wipe them out. But I continued to walk around and cut a path through the dungeon, even while Tas followed. Why was he here? It wasn't like he could take these guys yet.

( From Tas ) : If ur free, could you stop farming just a sec?

( From Tas ) : Come here.

(Tas) requests a deal.

I clicked "OK" without a second thought, though I wondered why he would request a trade in the middle of a dungeon. I didn't need anything at the moment.

And then I saw the Bouquet.

… All I could think was _oh shit oh shit oh shit I haven't got any flowers to give him omg yes I have a Fancy Flower in invent_ and I dropped that into my trade window, though I felt slightly guilty afterwards.

The trade has been completed successfully.

( From Tas ) : Happy Valentine's Day

( From Tas ) : I gotta get off, mum needs to use the com

( To Tas ) : Aw okay, bye bye :(

( From Tas ) : Catch ya later.

And he was gone.

Now I knew why he didn't use guild chat, like we normally did. And I kept the Bouquet, because it seemed to mean something I had an inkling about earlier, but didn't really believe. I wonder if it means what I think it does.


	29. Small Moments

Author Notes: Man I feel super guilty for having a bunch of fic on my LJ and not putting them here. A portion of it is here, but _not_ all, since one or two relies on the formatting I have there that FFN doesn't allow D:

B-btw Ichiro thinks Trian's a woman, for the record. (r-remember the Amatsu prince who proposed to Trian? YEAH) WOW I forgot how much research I keep on forgetting to do every time I write Ichiro.

--

**平和****和平**

"What do you wish to see in this world, then?"

Ichiro enjoyed the foreign wizard's company more these days. He found himself falling more and more for Trian as she stayed longer. Ichiro liked these private moments where they could talk of subjects closer to heart; he discovered the High Wizard was more than just looks. Trian leant against the trunk of the sakura tree, eyes fluttering shut. "Peace, true peace," was the quiet reply accompanied with an unhappy smile.

He didn't take her small, fragile hands in his; he didn't dare to yet. He had heard Trian protested being touched in any way. Instead, Ichiro folded his own hands on his lap. "I had not heard of any current war tearing your lands apart."

"There aren't any wars right now, but there are so many wars on the brink of starting. All they need is one false move. This is only an uneasy peace."

Silence, then, "There is something that you would, perhaps, appreciate."

Ichiro stepped back when he was finished, the black shine of wet ink on red cloth forming the words, vertically, 平和.

"The first character translates as 'equality' in Pronteran," Ichiro explained as Trian stared at the calligraphy. "The second means 'harmony'. Together these characters mean 'peace'. Is it not true that there must be equality before there is harmony, and there must be harmony before there is peace?"

Trian turned to stare at him, her expression unreadable, except for the eyes. Ichiro knew he had touched something in her heart. Seeing that the ink had dried, Ichiro carefully rolled up the scroll and tied it with a gold ribbon.

"Keep it," he said softly, pressing it into her hands, "as a wish to see yours come true."

--

**So they live, and then they die**

Grimtooth is a dagger, genderless, yet has been assigned a 'male' gender for as long as he has been one (NightEyes says it's because of his shape). He can see, hear, smell, though he can neither taste nor feel for some reason; the one who created this physical form seemed to have overlooked it, or perhaps only wished for him to have senses that would be useful in informing his 'master' of any dangers.

He has been passed down through several generations of people already, sometimes wielded, sometimes not. But every battle he witnesses, hundreds, thousands, uncountable now, he sees, hears, smells, the same thing, over and over again.

People dying, in an attempt to live.

It fascinates him, fascinates one who feels nothing, fascinates one who only exists. Grimtooth wonders what it's like to be alive. He can't feel the ripping of flesh from his curved edge, can't taste the blood that stains his metal blade. But he can smell the fear, he can hear the screams of the dying, he can see people fighting against death because it's this struggle to the end that makes them _alive_.

Grimtooth can't die. He can only be destroyed, the closest he has to dying, and even that is meaningless, because he doesn't feel the struggle to stay alive as his physical self is reformed over and over again. He doesn't feel that terror that he has seen etched on so many faces before his blade puts an end to their struggles, or prolongs them. _Something _seems to happen when people die, and even when NightEyes dies and returns -- strangely quiet, and he wants to know why -- there is _something _that happens that Grimtooth will never understand because he never experiences it. He realises he isn't alive because he only exists.

Grimtooth can't die, but he tries to anyway.

--

**Candles**

NightEyes watches the Incantation Samurai watching the candles burn down to their stubs. There is no natural light in the Maze and the lanterns that burn with an unnatural fire never die down. Even their primary bodily functions are of no use to them. They don't breathe, their hearts don't beat; they don't need to. There's nothing for them to mark the passage of time, not even the natural cycle of being asleep and awake, because they only sleep when they're bored with nothing else to do (at least, that was what NightEyes did).

All they had left were candles, and when those ran out, they could only count the flickers of the lanterns.

--

**Sugared Candy**

Aleran lay under a tree in the corner of Yuno, staring up into the star filled sky, with an open tin of round, sugar-filled goodies beside him.

A hard piece of candy rolled around his mouth, clacking against the sides of his teeth, scraping the wet insides of his mouth. He could feel the saccharine burn of the sugared candy against his tongue, and he had sucked on so many pieces of unchewable candy that he could taste blood where the candy's sharp edges had cut him.

This darkness, this night, he didn't want to think about what was happening at this very moment -- not behind his back, not without his consent, because this wasn't something he didn't agree to.

The candy had long ago stopped tasting sweet, the sugar fast becoming a dull numbness on his tongue, mouth. He had taken far too much of it, the acidic burn of sugar mixing with blood and spit in his mouth. But he couldn't stop himself, couldn't stop this kind of faintly pleasurable torture as he thought about what this night would mean to him, what this night would change.

He might gain a child.

But he was going to lose something in return.

--

**Inebriation**

The Incantation Samurai sat crosslegged, posture straight, his large, gauntleted hands resting on his knees. Beside him, eaten by the monstrous undead's shadow, the possessed prince of Amatsu sat in a similar manner.

NightEyes, however, was sprawled all over a squat table, long limbs dangling off the edges.

Had the Samurai a face, he would have grimaced at the stalker's complete and utter disrespect for the furniture, and as it was, a wince ran through the prince's features.

"I would have thought one such as yourself would leap at the chance to be inebriated."

"Nah." NightEyes pushed himself up off the table and turned over so that he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling of the Tatami Maze. "When you're piss drunk you've got no control."

"Is that what this is all about? Control?"

NightEyes turned his head so he could stare at the Samurai out the corners of his eyes. "Yeah, and I'd want to be able to remember the sex if it's good, do you get me?"

The Samurai thought for a moment._Perhaps the brat isn't so brainless after all._

The stalker interrupted the Samurai's mental praise. "That, and it's harder to get it up when you're drunk."


	30. Selfishness

Any food or drink brought to their home was quickly consumed within the day. Trian never thinks past the present like that. The concept of saving for the future was completely foreign to Trian, much to Tyler's chagrin.

Tyler is first alerted to Faith's presence by her voice, a sound that is becoming more and more familiar to him every day. Moving towards the kitchen, where he can hear her conversing with Trian, he notices a scent that isn't there normally. Greeting Faith with a smile, Tyler breathes in the scent, a nice blend of blackberry and peach if he's any judge. It's a calming scent, he thinks with a small smile. Soothing.

Faith must have noticed his smile, and says, "Why don't you try it, Professor?" and Tyler hears the scrape of porcelain against the kitchen counter as she slides something that sounds like a cup and saucer towards him. Tea, Tyler guesses as he reaches for it.

It's good, he thinks, after taking a sip. He takes his time drinking the tea, his sips punctuated by conversation with Faith and Trian. When Tyler finishes his tea, there's a little sadness and small wish for more in the back of his mind.

--

The next day, Tyler smells something that's vaguely familiar, but it's not a usual scent found around the house. He tries to remember where he last came across the scent, and doesn't remember until he feels Trian's presence, and hears a soft clink of porcelain on their table. The scent is stronger. It's the tea from yesterday, he realises.

"Thank you."

There is a slight pause in movement, and Tyler suddenly realises Trian moves a lot. Trian mutters, "... I got it for myself."

The teacup is nudged towards Tyler, however, and all the tea is finished two weeks later.


End file.
